


Whatever It Takes

by mainstreamelectricalparade



Series: Hardest Lessons (Softest Results) [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Awesome James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Kid Peter Parker, Light Angst, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Peter's star makes a reappearance, Precious Peter Parker, Sleepy Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 01:06:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17356049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mainstreamelectricalparade/pseuds/mainstreamelectricalparade
Summary: Following the events of Iron Man, fitting Peter into the plot line and adding some sweet moments between the sarcasm and action.





	1. Beautiful Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first post of 2019! I'm excited to get back into posting, I'm open for ideas!
> 
> I recommend reading my fic "Starlight, Star Bright" before this one, because I do reference things from that a few times, plus it follows the events of the beginning of the movie, all the way through Tony's post-Afghanistan press conference.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Close your eyes  
> Have no fear  
> The monster's gone  
> He's on the run and your daddy's here
> 
> Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful  
> Beautiful boy

Tony was relieved to be home, but that didn't mean everything was easy.

He could deal with all the backlash from shutting down weapons manufacturing, that was whatever, even though Rhodey wasn't really. Talking to him. Which was kind of the worst. But it was still whatever.

The glowing blue light in his chest that was keeping him alive was... also whatever. He wished it wasn't there, but it was almost cool, when he didn't think about why it was there. Almost.

Tony had started working on a secret project during the nights, after he had tucked Peter in for the night. He had it saved to his private server, because who could he trust? He didn't know anymore. He was glad to be back in his own workshop; the dank, dingy cave in Afghanistan had been horrible to work in. He had managed, because he didn't have a choice one way or another, but the conditions were bad at best.

“Pull up the Mark II specs, JAR,” Tony murmured one evening, leaning over his computer. “The baby's in bed, Pepper has gone home for the night. Let's do this. And turn on some music. Anything, you pick.”

“I would suggest not getting into anything just yet, sir,” JARVIS said quietly. “Listen.”

Tony was about to seriously question JARVIS' functionality, but then he strained his ears and listened, and heard something faint coming from upstairs. He furrowed his brow and started out of the workshop. “What the...?”

He made his way up the stairs and stopped at the top, listening again.

Louder this time, he heard it again: Peter, in his room, yelling.

“ _Daddy_!”

Tony bolted. Peter sounded scared and upset, and that was the last thing he was supposed to be. He burst into Peter's room without warning, flicking the light on and looking around.

Peter was in his bed, curled in a tight ball, his face half hidden. His whole body shook from the force of his sobbing. Tony felt like the shrapnel in his chest had finally managed to get into his heart, and he hurried to sit on the bed with his son. The scene reminded him painfully of Peter's first asthma attack, and Tony very much wanted to avoid a repeat of that particular experience.

Before he could say a word, Peter opened his eyes and peeked up at him. His big brown eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and he scrambled to get himself upright, tangling his legs in the blankets and nearly falling out of the bed. Tony had to lunge forward and catch him before he could.

Peter wiggled around in Tony's arms until he was hugging Tony with all his six year old might, burying his face in his dad's neck and sniffling miserably. Tony hugged him back tightly with one arm, silently working to detangle his little legs from the blankets so he could pull him fully into his lap and hold him properly.

“Why are you crying, Petey, what happened?” Tony asked softly, freeing Peter's legs and pulling them across his own so that he was cradling Peter's little body as though he were still a baby, because in Tony's mind he may as well be. Peter didn't answer, which made Tony a little nervous, so he pressed. “Are you breathing ok? Do you feel sick?”

Peter sniffled and whimpered, but Tony felt him shake his head. He could feel hot tears sliding down his neck and soaking the neckline of his tank top. He lifted a hand to Peter's hair and combed through the soft curls as he started to rock gently, hoping the motion would help soothe the sobbing boy. “Then what's wrong, baby?”

“Missed you,” Peter whispered miserably, fisting his hand in Tony's shirt. “You weren't here to keep the bad dreams away.”

Tony bit his lip. “Are you still having bad dreams, buddy? I know sometimes it takes a little while for them to go away.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, so quiet Tony could barely hear him. He removed one arm from Tony's neck and traced the glowing outline of the arc reactor under his shirt with one finger. He had been doing that a lot lately, and Tony was beginning to wonder if it was somehow comforting to the little boy.

Tony tightened his grip around Peter, kissing his hair a few times and speaking into the soft curls that tickled his nose. “I'm here now, baby,” he whispered. “I'm going to do everything I can to make those bad dreams go away, ok?”

“Ok,” Peter sniffled, still tracing the arc reactor.

Tony was about to be a boring, responsible parent and suggest trying to wind down and go back to sleep, but as he watched Peter trace the light in his chest, his curiosity overruled his logic. Peter was always poking or tracing the arc reactor gingerly, and he looked at it a _lot_. Far more than Tony would be comfortable with, had it been anyone else.

Tony cleared his throat. “Peter, buddy, what do you think about Daddy's arc reactor?” he asked, lowering his voice.

Peter took a minute to answer, still focused on the light. “It looks like my star,” he said after a while.

Tony wasn't expecting that. “What do you mean, kiddo, what star?”

“The star I asked to help you come home,” Peter replied, like it was obvious. “My teacher told us about star wishes, and I asked if it was ok if I made one.”

“Really?” Tony asked, feeling his throat constrict.

“She said star wishes are for everyone,” Peter continued. “So I made one every night for a long time.”

“And you wished for me to come home?” Tony asked hoarsely.

“Mhm,” Peter hummed in confirmation. “And I thought it wasn't working, and I started having bad dreams, so I stopped. And then my star found you.” He tapped the blue light gingerly. “And you told me it's keeping you safe.”

Tony's chest ached at Peter's innocent, hopeful explanation for the thing that Tony resented. He didn't want to say anything to ruin it for him. He shifted his weight slightly and tucked Peter's head under his chin. “That's right, Petey,” he said softly. “Your star is keeping me safe.” He kissed the top of his head, then rested his cheek on the same spot. “Thank you, buddy.”

“You're welcome, Daddy,” Peter said, sounding half-asleep already.

“You ready to go back to sleep?” Tony asked, lowering his voice even further and subtly shifting Peter into a less vertical position without putting him down.

“Wi' you s'ay here?” Peter mumbled, his previously loose hold on Tony's tank top tightening again, like he was scared Tony would leave.

Tony stood up, with Peter in his arms, only to sit back down against the pillows. He shuffled the blankets around until they were no longer as twisted, and slid under them with Peter against his chest. “Always, baby,” he whispered. “Go to sleep, I'm right here.”

“'K,” Peter said. Tony wasn't sure how conscious he was; his eyes were fully closed, and his head drooped and lolled every time Tony shifted.

Tony tucked Peter under his arm against his side. “Good night, bambino.”

"G'night, Daddy."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the idea for Peter to think of the arc reactor as his star from a comment on Starlight, Star Bright. Someone suggested that it would be cute, and I completely agreed and smacked myself for not thinking of it to add into that fic, so I put it here, instead.
> 
> (Edit: I listened to the song "Beautiful Boy" by John Lennon and uhhh the first verse reminded me of this chapter so I put it in the summary ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯)


	2. Grace Requires Nothing of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now I have learned my lesson  
> The price of this so-called perfection  
> Is everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to get back into slightly more frequent updates, hence this being updated the day after another fic being posted, haha.
> 
> Not a ton of Peter in this chapter, but he does make an appearance.

The arc reactor in Obadiah's hand glinted tauntingly as he laughed softly.

“You really think that just because you have an idea, it belongs to you?” Obadiah asked, leaning in uncomfortably close to Tony's face. “Your father... he helped give us the atomic bomb, now what kind of world would it be today, if he was as selfish as you?”

 _Probably at least marginally safer_ , Tony thought, doing his best to glare at Obadiah through his paralysis. He could feel blood trickling out of his ears from the paralysis device.

Obadiah paused, just for a moment, then smirked and tugged hard on the wires connecting the arc reactor to Tony's body. The magnet popped out, and Tony immediately felt pain in his chest, the shrapnel embedded there already starting to trigger cardiac arrest.

“Oh, it's beautiful,” Obadiah whispered, holding the reactor up and peering at it in awe. “Oh, Tony.” He shifted and sat down on the couch next to Tony. “This is your ninth symphony. What a masterpiece, look at that.” He held it within Tony's line of sight.

 _Put it back,_ Tony thought desperately. _Put it back_.

“This is your legacy,” Obadiah said. “A new generation of weapons, with _this_ at it's heart. Weapons that will help steer the world back on course. Put the balance of power in our hands. The right hands.”

 _No. T_ _hat's not what that's meant for._

Obadiah moved away and started putting Tony's reactor into a padded case. “I wish you could see my prototype,” he said conversationally. “It's not as, ah, conservative as yours...”

 _Oh, god_.

“Too bad you had to involve Pepper in this,” Obadiah added. “I would have preferred that she lived.”

 _No. No. Not Pepper._ Tony had just enough control of his face to feel his eyes widen in horror. His gaze flicked to the hallway entrance that led to Peter's room.

 _Peter_. What was Obadiah going to do with Peter? _Oh, god_...

Obadiah stood up and started walking away. He paused inches from the door, and turned back to Tony. “And don't worry about your boy. I am willing to do many things, but murdering a child is not one of them. At least... not now. He does, after all, still pose a threat to me. Or, he will in about fifteen years. I can deal with him, then.” He smiled wickedly, and left.

Tony's chest was filled with dread, as well as the pain of his arc reactor being torn out.

He had to do something, he had to fix this, he had to make sure Pepper was ok, had to keep Peter safe. It took far greater effort, and far more time, than he wanted, but as the paralysis started to wear off, he managed to ease himself off the couch and crawl across the floor to the elevator. He got inside, slamming hard against the wall from not being in full control of his body yet, and punched the button for the workshop.

The doors opened on the workshop floor and Tony stumbled out, crashing into the door as he pulled it open. He looked around the workshop wildly, until his eyes landed on the old arc reactor Pepper had put in a display for him.

 _Bless that woman and her sense of humor_ , Tony thought in relief, as he propelled himself forward with clumsy, jerking movements. He fell flat on his face, his legs giving out as cardiac arrest started taking over. He had to resort to crawling across the floor to the table the glass display sat on, pushing things out of his way to clear the path.

There was a plastic container full of tools under the table, and Tony pulled it closer to try to prop himself up, so that he could reach the display case, and it worked, but his clumsy movements pushed the box further away, instead of closer. It was sitting on top of something else, and he started pulling on that, but his support gave out and he fell over, grunting.

Tony managed to roll himself over and lean back against the table wheels, too tired and in pain to try again.

 _This is it,_ he thought. _Oh, god, this is it_.

He was going to die, right there. He wouldn't be able to fix this, he wouldn't be able to save Pepper, or see Peter again.

Just as Tony was starting to begrudgingly come to terms with his fate, he heard a whirring sound just above his head, and looked up.

DUM-E was there, holding the arc reactor within Tony's reach.

Tony reached up and took the case, looking up at DUM-E's metal arm hovering over his head. “Good boy,” he grunted, before slamming the glass of the case into the cement floor, effectively shattering it.

\---

Rhodey stormed through Tony's house, calling Tony's name. “Tony! _Tony_!”

“Uncle Rhodey?” a small voice asked.

Rhodey turned around to see Peter standing there, wearing pajamas, with sleep-ruffled hair, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Peter,” Rhodey said, alarmed, kneeling next to the little boy and taking hold of his arm gently. “Hey, buddy.”

“I woke up to go potty,” Peter mumbled, “and I can't find my daddy. Where is he?”

Dread flooded over Rhodey. “I'm sure he's around,” he said, hoping to God he wasn't lying through his teeth. He stood up, both hands on Peter's thin shoulders. “Pete, go back to your room and stay there, ok? I'll find your dad, but I need you to do that for me. Can you?”

Peter hesitated, but nodded slowly. “Ok, Uncle Rhodey,” he said.

“Good little man,” Rhodey said, ruffling Peter's hair and waiting until Peter had started walking back to his room before glancing around and darting down the stairs leading to the workshop. “Tony!” he called again.

At the bottom of the stairs he called his friend's name once again, then looked over and saw Tony sprawled out on the floor, next to a bunch of broken glass. Fearing the worst, he ran over and knelt down, turning Tony onto his back. “Tony!”

Tony opened his eyes, grunting, and Rhodey sighed with relief. He helped Tony sit up. “You ok?”

Tony clutched at Rhodey's jacket, scrabbling to regain his balance. “Where's Pepper? And Peter?”

“Both fine, Peter's in his room-” Tony slumped in relief at the news. “-Pepper's with five agents about to arrest Obadiah,” Rhodey said.

Tony's face hardened. “That's not gonna be enough,” he growled.

Recognizing the steely look of determination in Tony's eyes, Rhodey nodded once and pulled him to his feet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a couple more parts I'd like to write for this fic, and I might actually end up changing the order of chapters once I do that, because there might be a part in between this one and the first chapter, lol, but I thought of a way to write this one first.


	3. 'Til the Sirens Sound, I'm Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fault lines tremble underneath our glass house  
> But I put it out of my mind  
> Long enough to call it courage  
> To live without a lifeline  
> I bend the definition  
> Of faith to exonerate my blind eye  
> "'Til the sirens sound, I'm safe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this at like 12:30am my time, but oh well. I finished this chapter and had to put it out into the universe before I exploded, haha.
> 
> This chapter is a bit more Peter-centric, so I hope you enjoy that!

Peter finally wandered out of his room, even though Rhodey told him to stay. He had been waiting for a long time, he couldn't wait anymore. He looked around the house everywhere, except for the workshop, because he wasn't allowed to go down there by himself without permission. “Mr. JARVIS?” he asked nervously.

“Yes, Peter?” JARVIS asked calmly. “What can I do for you?”

“Where's Daddy?”

The AI didn't answer right away. When he finally did, he almost sounded a little awkward. “Your father has stepped out for a while, and asked me to watch over you until he returns.”

Peter crinkled his nose. “Daddy never leaves without saying goodbye,” he said anxiously, fiddling his hands together.

Another long pause. “Your father thought you were asleep when he left,” JARVIS said.

Peter felt like maybe JARVIS was lying, but he didn't think it was possible for an AI to lie. “Do you know when he'll come back?”

“It is... hard to tell.”

Peter's leg started jiggling. He wanted to run down to the workshop and see if maybe his daddy was playing a mean trick on him, but he knew his daddy would never do that. “Ok,” he said quietly, scuffing his bare toes against the hardwood floor of the hallway.

“If it is any consolation,” JARVIS added, maybe picking up on Peter's rising distress, “I'm sure he will be back before the night is over.”

Peter stared down at the floor, trying to keep his bottom lip from poking out like his daddy always said it did when he was sad. “I guess,” he said. “Thank you, Mr. JARVIS.”

“I'm sorry I cannot give you a better answer,” JARVIS said sadly.

“That's ok,” Peter mumbled. “But I don't think I can go back to sleep, now.”

“That's quite all right,” JARVIS said gently. “It's perfectly natural to find sleep difficult without your father near. I'm sure he would not mind if you wanted to play with your toys or watch a film while you waited for him to return.”

Peter thought about that. “Can I watch Finding Nemo?” he asked.

“Certainly. I will queue it for you. Would you like to get anything from your room before I start the film?”

Peter nodded, and padded back to his room to get his fuzzy blue blanket that was the same color as his daddy's arc reactor star, and a teddy bear that Uncle Rhodey gave him when he was a baby, that was dressed like a pilot but didn't have a plane, because Peter used to be scared of planes and Uncle Rhodey didn't want to scare him. He went out to the living room and climbed onto the couch, curling under his blanket and hugging his bear to his chest.

“Ready, Mr. JARVIS,” Peter said, turning to face the big TV screen and settling back against the back of the couch.

“Now playing _Finding Nemo_. Enjoy the show, Peter,” JARVIS said, turning the movie on and dimming the lights a little bit.

“Thank you, Mr. JARVIS,” Peter said, because his daddy always told him to be polite.

\---

Tony clawed his way out of his busted suit, grunting and swearing more profoundly than he had since before Peter was born. “Ow, _god_ , that hurt, holy-”

“Tony!” Pepper yelled from somewhere below. “Tony, are you ok?”

Tony army-crawled his way to the edge of the roof, where he peered over and looked down at Pepper in the parking lot. “That hurt like a mother, but I survived,” he griped loud enough for her to hear.

He could see Pepper's full-body sigh, but he couldn't really hear it, partly because his ears were ringing from the sound of the arc reactor blowing up. “Come down from there, let's get you home.”

“Fantastic idea, Miss Potts,” Tony replied.

Now, to figure out a way to actually _do_ that.

\---

Pepper dropped Tony off in the garage of his house. She only gaped for a couple minutes at the hole he had accidentally blasted in the ceiling, and the car he had crushed, during his test flight, before bidding him goodbye.

“I'm sure you want to clean up, check on Peter, and call it a night, so I'll see you tomorrow,” she said. “There will probably be a press conference to, um. Cover this up, so I'll call you when I find out more about that.”

“Thanks, Pep,” Tony said, climbing out of the car and shutting the door behind him. He watched Pepper drive out of the garage, then turned and headed through the workshop and up the stairs.

He was a little surprised, at the top of the stairs, to see light in the living room and sound coming from the TV. Peter must be awake.

Oh, god.

 _Peter must be awake_.

How the _hell_ was Tony going to explain his appearance to his six year old son? There was a massive hole in his t-shirt from when his arc reactor was ripped out, he was sweaty, his face was sooty and scraped, and he was bruised from head to toe.

JARVIS tactfully didn't say anything as Tony entered the house, allowing Tony to alert Peter to his presence himself. He headed into the living room.

“What are you doing up, ducky?” he asked softly, watching as JARVIS paused the movie that was playing on the TV – Finding Nemo, he noticed – and Peter looked from the screen over to Tony. His big brown eyes widened in excitement.

“Daddy, you're back!” he said, scrambling to stand up on the couch, the fuzzy blue blanket that he had tucked around himself falling down to pool around his feet, the pilot bear he had been clutching dropping to the floor. He held his arms out wide for a hug. “I missed you!”

Tony smiled at his son's enthusiasm and went to the couch to oblige the requested hug. “I missed you too, Petey,” he said, lifting Peter off the couch and holding him up. He felt small legs wrap around his middle securely, and could tell this hug wasn't going to end any time soon if the little boy had anything to say about it, so he turned around and sat down on the couch next to the blanket. Peter stayed on his lap facing him.

Peter finally seemed to take in Tony's appearance and frowned. “Are you ok?” he asked, reaching up, maybe to poke the shallow cut on Tony's nose, but then deciding against it.

Tony's chest filled with warmth. “I'm fine, peanut,” he said, tapping Peter's nose with one finger. “Just a little clumsy moment at he office. Silly Daddy, huh?”

It was pretty much a lie, as well as the understatement of the century, but it was all he was willing to tell Peter, at least right now. He'd tell him the real story when he was old enough not to be as scared by it.

Peter gave him a small smile. “Silly Daddy,” he echoed.

“Which brings me back to my original question,” Tony added, driving the subject away from his injuries. He poked Peter in the nose again, causing it to scrunch in the adorable way it always did. “ _Why_ are you awake, bub?”

Peter shrugged. “I woke up to go potty,” he explained, “and when I came out of the bathroom Uncle Rhodey was here and told me to stay in my room-” _God bless Rhodey_ , Tony thought, “-and he didn't come back to tell me I could come out, and then Mr. JARVIS said you were gone so I couldn't go back to sleep.”

Tony sighed and combed a hand through Peter's hair once, further ruffling the bedhead he was sporting. “I'm sorry, sweetheart, I didn't know you'd wake up while I was gone,” he said.

Technically, it sounded like Peter had woken up before Rhodey found Tony in the workshop, which made Tony worry that maybe he had heard or seen Obadiah there, but he hadn't mentioned him, so maybe not.

“It's ok, Daddy,” Peter said, although from the slightly sad wrinkle to his eyebrows, Tony could tell he wasn't exactly telling the truth. “Mr. JARVIS let me watch a movie while I waited for you.”

“I can see that,” Tony said, glancing at the screen, silently thanking his AI for successfully looking after and distracting Peter, and potentially preventing a meltdown that nobody would have been there to calm. He looked back at Peter, who was starting to look quite sleepy, if a little wired. “Tell you what. Daddy needs to take a shower, so why don't you keep watching your movie, and then I'll tuck you in again. I'll let you sleep in my room tonight, if you want.”

It was something of a bribe, but it worked. Peter's eyes lit up and he nodded. “Ok, Daddy!” he said brightly, probably excited by the prospect of being allowed to stay up a little later, seemingly just for fun.

In all honesty, Tony wasn't sure _he'd_ be able to sleep if he couldn't see, hear, and feel Peter right next to him and know for certain that he was completely fine. Obadiah was dead, now, but his threat of killing Peter someday made Tony's blood run cold just to think about. He needed his son right next to him tonight, just to calm his own nerves.

\---

Tony showered as quickly as possible, washing the sweat from his hair, the blood from his face, and the grime from... literally everywhere. The smoke from the explosion had gotten into every crevice of his suit and stained every available inch of his skin with soot. The water that pooled around his feet turned a disgusting brown-ish black color as it washed down the drain.

He threw away the shirt he had been wearing; the hole in the chest made it impossible to salvage. He dumped the rest of his clothes in the hamper and exchanged them for some soft, fresh-smelling pajamas once he was clean.

The credits were just starting to roll on Peter's movie when Tony went back to the living room, and Peter looked up at him, obviously tired, but happy.

“Hi, Daddy,” Peter mumbled around the thumb he was sucking on; a sleepy habit from his very early years that he had yet to kick, despite his teachers and pediatrician telling him he should.

“Hi, peanut,” Tony answered, stooping down to pick Peter's bear up off the floor and turning to hold his arms out to Peter. “Ready for bed, kiddo?”

Peter nodded and held his free arm up in return. “Mhm,” he hummed. Tony smiled fondly and leaned down to lift the sleepy little boy up off the couch. He left the blanket there to put away in the morning, and offered Peter the bear to hold onto while he carried him back to his room so they could go to bed.

In Tony's room, Tony pushed down the covers on one side of the bed, swinging Peter high playfully, causing him to giggle, before letting him down onto the soft mattress gently, almost in the middle. He pulled the blankets back up over his little body, all the way to his chin, effectively tucking him in. He leaned over his son and smiled down at him. Peter smiled back, showing off the gap where his front baby teeth used to be.

“Sweet dreams, Peter Pan,” Tony whispered, kissing the tip of Peter's nose. “Daddy loves you so much.”

“Love you, Daddy,” Peter mumbled, looking like he was already falling asleep.

Tony stayed there for a minute, watching his baby's eyes flutter closed and his breathing slow down and even out. He sighed in relief, then rounded over to the other side of the bed and crawled under the blankets. He settled in as close to Peter as possible, curling an arm around him protectively, and, after what felt like the longest day of his life, allowed himself to fall asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really want to put too much of the more violent parts of the movies into my fics, I just want to focus on Tony and Peter's relationship, so I have to get a little creative with ways to make chapters longer. I hope you enjoyed that little bit from Peter's point of view! I enjoy trying to write him at this age, it's a good writing exercise.
> 
> One chapter to go! This chapter was super close to the end of the movie, but I still want to put my own spin on that last press conference scene, because it's ICONIC.


	4. For All the Times I Never Could

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been cold, I've been merciless  
> But the blood on my hands scares me to death  
> Maybe I'm waking up today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Last chapter! I had fun writing this one, and it's definitely the longest one in this fic, so enjoy!

Tony slept until 10 the next morning. He woke up to soft, messy curls tickling his nose, and blinked his eyes open, looking down at the precious, snuggly, still-sleeping little boy tucked into his chest, drooling on his sleeve a little bit.

Tony sighed softly, allowing himself to feel relaxed, even just for a moment, and enjoy the calm quiet of a morning spent snuggling his favorite person in the world.

It took him a minute to remember that it was a school day for Peter, but even if he had woken up in time to get Peter to school, he didn't think he would have. He wanted to keep his kid close, today. He'd get it signed off as a family emergency later.

The phone on his nightstand rang loudly. Tony groaned; that had _definitely_ woken Peter up; the little boy was starting to stir against him, mumbling incoherently.

Tony reached over and grabbed the phone, answering it and holding it up to his ear. “Whoever this is had better have a damn good reason for calling,” he grumbled, while Peter wiggled around until he was once again tucked under Tony's arm against his side, burying his face in his father's chest like he was trying to hide. Tony held the phone away from his mouth and cooed softly, scratching a hand gently through Peter's hair. “I'm sorry, baby,” he whispered. Peter blinked up at him briefly before closing his eyes and hunkering back down.

“ _Tony, it's Pepper_ ,” Pepper said on the other end of the line. “ _I'm sorry for interrupting your morning with Peter, but they're calling a press conference this afternoon. We've got your alibi all ready to go, all you have to do is show up and read it_ ,” she explained.

Tony sighed again, this time regretfully, looking down at the top of Peter's head. “Ok. I'll be there,” he told Pepper. “What time?”

“ _2 o'clock_ ,” she replied. “ _See you then, Tony_.”

“See you, Pep,” he said, hanging up and putting the phone down. He rubbed a hand across his face and looked at Peter again. He gently tapped two fingers against Peter's forehead, causing him to look up. “Hungry, buddy?”

Peter hummed sleepily and nodded.

“Ok,” Tony said, patting Peter's hip. “Let's go find you something to eat.” He sat up and pushed the blankets away, then swung his legs off the bed and got to his feet. When he turned back to Peter, the sleepy little boy was still lying against the pillows, holding his arms out to Tony in a silent request to be carried. Tony chuckled fondly and, once again, obliged, kissing the tip of Peter's nose as he scooped him up.

He carried Peter into the kitchen and set him down on the counter top, then went to rifle through the pantry to see what they had.

“What do you think, kiddo, you want cereal?” he asked, peeking at Peter around the edge of the pantry door just in time to see Peter yawn widely, reminding Tony strongly of a puppy he had once seen. He smiled and waited for Peter to be able to answer.

“Cereal sounds good, Daddy,” Peter mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Tony tried not to laugh at how adorable his kid was when he was tired, but a few snickers slipped out. “Ok, ducky,” he said. “What kind? Rice Krispies?” That was one of Peter's favorites; he liked leaning down and listening to them crackle until they were too soggy to make any more noise.

Peter nodded, so Tony grabbed the cereal and poured a small bowl for him, putting it at Peter's place at the table before swinging Peter off the counter and into his booster seat. He was too big for a high chair, but still far too small to sit at the table without the booster. Tony handed him a spoon and dropped a kiss to the top of his head before moving away to put on a pot of coffee, keeping an eye on Peter the whole time, just for his own personal reassurance.

(Obie's threat had really made him paranoid. It didn't matter that he wasn't there to carry it out, anymore.)

Tony was halfway through his first cup of coffee when he realized he was going to have to tell Peter what he had been hiding, if he was going to keep doing it, especially because of the press conference later than day. He knew it would probably scare Peter, at least a little, but hopefully it would sound cool enough at this age that it wouldn't be too bad. He sat down at the table next to Peter and cleared his throat.

“I need to talk to you about something, peanut,” he began slowly. “It's a bit of a grown-up topic, but it's important for you to know. Ok?”

Peter looked up from his crackling cereal. “Ok, Daddy,” he said, sitting up straight in his booster and trying to look serious. It was a hard look for him to pull off, especially with his sweet baby face and messy bedhead, but Tony appreciated the effort, and ran the back of his finger gently across Peter's soft cheek before continuing.

“Daddy's got a press conference later to talk about something that happened at work last night,” he began, watching Peter carefully to gauge his reaction as he talked. “I don't want to scare you, sweetheart, but it was kind of scary, because sometimes scary things happen and there's not a lot anyone can do to change that.” Peter nodded, his eyes wide, his attention fully on Tony and the words he was saying.

Tony took a breath to steel himself. “Peter, you know how, when I went to Afghanistan, I stayed there a lot longer than I was supposed to?”

“Uncle Rhodey said you were hiding,” Peter said.

Tony smiled sadly. “That's not exactly what happened, buddy. Some bad men were hiding me, I wasn't hiding myself. You know how I always tell you to stay close to me when we go outside, so that you stay safe?”

Peter nodded.

“I was supposed to stay close to Uncle Rhodey in Afghanistan, and there was just one moment where I decided not to, and I shouldn't have done that, because those bad men attacked us while we were driving somewhere, and they hid me from Uncle Rhodey for a long time,” Tony said. “I got hurt, and they didn't have any of the right stuff to help me get better, and that's why I have this now. I had to build it to stay healthy.” He tapped his arc reactor, and Peter's gaze dropped down to it. Tony gave Peter a small smile and chucked his finger under his son's chin. “Your star saved my life, buddy.” Peter snapped back up to look at Tony in awe, and Tony nodded. “It did. It still is.”

He saw Peter's mouth inaudibly form the word “wow”. He smiled again before continuing his story. He took another steeling breath.

“I knew they weren't going to let me leave, so I had to figure out a way to get out. There was another man there with me, a nice man, who helped me build a big flying suit to help me escape. It took a long time, but we did it, and I got in that suit and flew away from the bad men, and it worked long enough to get me far away from them, and then I crashed in the desert and Uncle Rhodey found me there, and brought me home.”

“Yay, Uncle Rhodey,” Peter said, smiling.

Tony smiled, too. “Yay, Uncle Rhodey,” he repeated. “But that's not the end of the story, this is the big part, ok?”

Peter nodded and sat back, waiting.

“While those men were still hiding me, I found out that they were using some of the weapons I used to build, and they were doing bad things to people with them,” Tony said, his throat closing up a little, remembering what he had seen. “When I got home I knew I had to do something to try to stop them, so I started building another suit, a better one, that could do a lot more than the one I used to escape, and that looked cooler, too because 'subtle' has never been in my vocabulary.”

“But you just said it,” Peter pointed out seriously. Tony laughed and reached over to tickle him briefly.

“Ok, smarty-pants, it's a word that doesn't really describe me, then, does that work for you?” Peter giggled and nodded. “Good. Can I finish my story?” Peter nodded again. “Thank you.”

Tony leaned back and took another drink from his coffee mug. “So I built another suit, and I used it to destroy some of the weapons the bad men were using. But I found out that someone close to me was selling those weapons to them without my permission.”

“That's bad!” Peter said, frowning.

Tony nodded. “It is bad.”

“Who was it?” Peter asked, his eyes wide.

Tony took a deep breath. “It was Obie, Pete. My partner turned out to be a very bad person.” He smoothed a hand over Peter's hair. “I guess you were right not to like him, bud. All this time I thought you were just being silly, but maybe you just picked up on it before I did.”

Peter looked slightly proud of himself, but he seemed to realize Tony was sad, because he looked sad, too.

Tony leaned forward and rested his head on his arm on the table. “That's where I went last night, Peter,” he said after a minute, lifting his head back up. “Obie built a suit, kind of like mine but bigger and more dangerous, and he was going to try to hurt a lot of people. He _did_ hurt a lot of people. Including me.” He bit his lip. “Obie paid those bad men to try to take me away from you. Forever, not just for a while.”

“No!” Peter yelled. “No, he can't do that!”

Tony reached over to pull Peter into his lap before he got hysterical. “He didn't, baby, it didn't work,” he promised. “I'm not going anywhere.”

Peter settled down and leaned back against Tony's chest. “Good,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, kissing his hair. “One more thing about last night, though, buddy.”

“Ok.”

“Obie stole my arc reactor last night, so that he could use it to power the suit he built,” Tony said. “I had to get in my suit and go stop him before he could do anything really bad, and we had a big fight...” He sighed. “Obie died last night, Pete. His greed got the best of him, and bad things happened because of it. There was an explosion at SI, and he died. I didn't want him to die, I just wanted to stop him from hurting anyone, but it didn't happen how I hoped it would. At least he can't hurt anyone else.” Tony tightened his hold on Peter, just a little bit. “I might have to start doing stuff like that more often, now, and if I do I don't want you to be scared when I leave, because I promise you, I will always do my best to come back, ok?”

Peter hesitated. “Ok,” he agreed. He tilted his head back to look at Tony, and smiled. “You're like a superhero now, Daddy,” he chirped. “Like Batman.”

Tony scoffed. “I'm not a superhero, buddy, but I am _way_ cooler than Batman,” he said. He started tickling Peter again, causing him to giggle wildly. “Right? I'm cooler than Batman, aren't I? He can't even fly, your daddy can _fly_.”

Peter squealed and giggled, pushing halfheartedly at Tony's tickling hands. “Yes!” he yelled. “You're cooler!”

Tony stopped tickling him and leaned down, pressing a big kiss to Peter's cheek. Peter giggled a little more at the scratchy feeling of Tony's beard. “Thank you,” Tony said. “Can't have my own kid thinking Bruce Wayne is cooler than me.”

\---

“ _You've all received the official statements of what occurred at Stark Industries last night. There have been unconfirmed reports that a robotic prototype malfunctioned and caused damage to the arc reactor. Fortunately a member of Tony Stark's personal security staff_...”

Pepper dabbed concealer over the minor scrapes on Tony's face, carefully avoiding the bandage across his nose. Peter sat on the floor nearby, reading the book he had brought. Tony had the day's newspaper open to the article about last night; “WHO IS THE IRON MAN?”

“Iron Man,” Tony said. “That's kind of catchy. It's got a nice ring to it. I mean, it's not technically accurate. The suit's a gold-titanium alloy, but it's kind of evocative, the imagery, in a way.”

Pepper didn't grace him with an answer, moving to set the concealer down and grab something else.

Agent Coulson from “organization with the name far too long for Tony to bother remembering” came over and held out a few note cards. “Here's your alibi,” he said.

“Ok,” Tony said, looking at them while Pepper kept dabbing stuff on his face, maybe powder this time.

“You were on your yacht,” Coulson explained.

“Yeah,” Tony said, scanning the top notecard. Except he definitely wasn't, he rarely used the yacht without Peter, and it was a school night, so he wouldn't have taken Peter out on the yacht at 10 o'clock at night. He wouldn't take him out that late _ever_ , but especially on a school night.

“We have port papers that put you in Avalon all night-”

_Seriously? Catalina?_

“-and sworn statements from 50 of your guests.”

 _Dear god_.

“Right,” Tony muttered. “See, I was thinking maybe we should say it was something else, quiet night in with the kid or something. Maybe Pepper showed up at some point.”

“That's hardly an alibi,” Coulson pointed out, smiling a little tightly. He pointed to the cards. “That's what happened.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “All right.”

“Just read it word for word.”

“Yep,” Tony said, flicking through the cards. He frowned. “There's nothing about Stane, here,” he said.

“That's being handled,” Coulson said. “He's on vacation. Small aircraft have such a poor safety record.”

Peter looked up from his book. “Daddy said he died,” he piped up.

Coulson glanced back at the little boy, then frowned at Tony. “Did you _have_ to tell him that?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, raising his eyebrows. “Got a problem with me telling my kid the truth?”

Coulson shrugged. “It's fine.”

“Good,” Tony said. “But what about the whole cover story that it's a bodyguard? He's my body- I mean, is that... That's kind of flimsy, don't you think?”

Phil smiled again. He kind of had an annoying smile. “This isn't my first rodeo, Mr. Stark. Just stick to the official statement, and soon this will all be behind you.” He turned to Pepper. “You've got 90 seconds.”

He walked away, and Pepper turned to look at the TV screen behind Tony, broadcasting Rhodey's statement. She followed Coulson to talk to him briefly, then turned back to Tony, smiling. “Let's get this show on the road,” she said, grabbing his suit jacked off the chair it was draped over.

“You know, it's actually... it's not that bad,” Tony said, still looking at the cards as he stood up and let Pepper help him into his jacket. “Even I don't think I'm Iron Man.”

“Iron Man?” Peter asked. “That sounds cool, Daddy.”

“It kinda does, doesn't it, buddy?” Tony replied, smiling.

Pepper fixed Tony with a look. “You're not Iron Man,” she said.

“Am so,” Tony said around the note cards he had clamped between his teeth.

“You're _not_.”

\---

“And now, Mr. Stark has prepared a statement. He will not be taking any questions. Thank you,” Rhodey said, finishing his own statement and stepping aside for Tony.

Tony took Rhodey's place at the podium, and looked out at the sea of reporters.

“Been a while since I was in front of you,” he said, thinking back to when he got back from Afghanistan and sat on the floor eating a cheeseburger, and shut down weapons manufacturing and made everybody mad at him. “I figure I'll stick to the cards this time.” That got a laugh out of them, at least, and he pulled the cards out of his pocket.

He started out ok. He got through most of the first sentence, but then that blonde reporter from a few months ago, who had ambushed him at an awards show and tried to irritate him into an interview before he escaped with Happy and went home, too late to tuck Peter in anyway but unwilling to stay at the show any longer, started asking questions that he could in no way answer with the help of Coulson's flimsy alibi cards. He ended up rambling a little bit, enough that Rhodey leaned over and reminded him to stick to the cards.

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “The truth is...” he stared at the words on the card and couldn't make himself say them. He looked up. “I am Iron Man.”

The room erupted; reporters stood up, taking photos, shouting questions, murmuring to themselves. Tony walked off the stand and back to the door where Pepper and Peter were waiting for him. Pepper looked exasperated, like she had several bones to pick with him all at once, but he just swung Peter up onto his hip and kept walking until he was outside, then kept going until he got to the car. He buckled Peter in, climbed into the front seat, and started driving for home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! I hope you enjoyed this fic!
> 
> The songs I used for the titles and summaries of each chapter are "Beautiful Boy" by John Lennon, "One" by Sleeping At Last, "Earth" by Sleeping At Last, and "I'll Be Good" by Jaymes Young.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr and Instagram! @riseuplikeglitterandgold


End file.
